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There is no moon.
The darkness envelopes Kougami as he climbs the fire escape, as he stops in front of a window and peers inside. It's pitch black in the apartment and there's no movement, which is good. Kougami double-checks that he's in the right location.
Single occupant, late twenties male, easy access in and out. That's what Shion had told him, and Kougami hopes it'll make for another easy night. He likes easy nights. It's when the nights aren't easy that he finds himself delving into darker thoughts about what he is.
He manages to get the window open and crawls inside, not making a sound. He finds himself in a living room, attached to a small kitchen. Ideally, he would've found himself in the bedroom, but he supposes that this layout is better for the safety of the tenant.
He walks, slowly, past the living room into a hallway. Pushes open one door and finds a bathroom. Pushes another open—there.
He can see a bit of black hair sticking out over blankets. Annoying, because Kougami will have to remove those, but the man seems fast asleep. He climbs into the bed, kneels over the man, and slowly peels the blankets back.
The man is sleeping in a light t-shirt. But what catches Kougami's eye is his neck, exposed now, a pale expanse of skin. He can practically hear the slow heartbeat. He leans forward, bracing himself against the bed, and brings his mouth to the man's neck.
And he sinks his teeth in.
He loves this moment, when blood fills his mouth and flows down his throat, rich and warm and replenishing. He's been anticipating it all night, after having gone a few days without.
But when the blood from this man fills his mouth, he has to fight back a gag. He jerks back, coughing, swiping his hand across his lips. At the same time, the man stirs, turning over, and from the floor, something barks and jumps on the bed, tackling Kougami and knocking him onto the man.
The man yelps and tries to pull away, but ends up getting tangled in his blankets and falling on the floor. Meanwhile, Kougami is pinned to the bed by something furry and large, and he should be thinking about escaping, about how bad this is, about how people aren't supposed to know.
But when the man pulls himself up and stares at Kougami in shock, the only thing Kougami can think to say is, “You're anemic!”
Then something hits him, hard, in the face, and he blacks out.
*
The bedroom looks like a crime scene.
That's the first thought that crosses Kougami's mind when he wakes up and finds himself staring at blood-stained sheets. There's more blood leading out the bedroom door, that he can see. And he's also alone. Slowly, he sits up and groans when his head throbs. He makes to stand, but a voice behind him barks, “Don't move.”
He turns and sees the man from before standing pressed against the wall, a knife held out in front of him, oddly steady for someone who's under the impression that they've been attacked in their sleep. There's a large dog standing sentry at his feet, teeth exposed.
Kougami raises his hands in front of him. “Uh,” he says. “I can explain.” He notices as he talks that his mouth is still sticky from blood. It must be all over him, considering how fast he pulled away from the man's neck.
“You bit me,” the man says, sounding both fascinated and horrified. “And then you told me I have anemia. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Uh,” Kougami says again. “Did you call the police?”
Brief confusion flits over the man's face, which tells Kougami that he did not, in fact, call the police. Which is interesting. Because most people would.
“Okay,” Kougami says, “here's the thing. You need to get that checked out. The anemia? Because--”
“You could tell that just from tasting my blood?” the man asks. “Why were you—what were you—were you drinking my blood? You—it hurts.” The wound is also still trickling blood down the man's neck, staining his t-shirt. If Kougami had been a bit more careful pulling away, the wound would be almost non-noticeable.
“About that,” Kougami says, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't know exactly what explanation he should give. He doesn't have a good lie made up. There is no lie that can explain it, but the truth sounds like a lie. So he decides to go with it and see what happens. “I'm a vampire.”
The man's eyes widen, and then he scowls. “Do you think I'm an idiot? That's ridiculous.”
“Yeah, it is,” Kougami agrees. “It's also true. I mean, look at this.” He bares his teeth, showing off his fangs. The man's mouth falls open. “Also, feel my pulse if you want.”
The man lowers his knife, but hesitates.
“Come on,” Kougami says. “You clearly still have doubts. And I won't bite.” He laughs to himself. “Mostly because you taste horrible.”
“Excuse me?” The man actually looks offended, but he steps forward, one hand still gripping the knife tightly, the other reaching out to touch Kougami's skin. He presses his fingers against Kougami's neck, still keeping him at arm's length, and waits. And waits.
Then, “You're freezing.”
“That's a side-effect of being a vampire,” Kougami says.
“You don't have a pulse,” the man adds. “Are you dead?”
“Not...technically,” Kougami says. He doesn't quite understand how it works either. He's no vampire scientist or whatever vampire experts call themselves. (To be fair, very few studies have been done on his kind.) He only knows that his life span is incredibly long, as long as he gets enough blood to sustain himself and doesn't get injured in a way that's “incompatible with life” (according to Shion.)
The man drops his hand and steps back. He also drops the knife, and the dog looks up at him.
“You're the first person I've told,” Kougami says. “I'm Kougami Shinya, by the way.”
“Why are you telling me this?” the man asks, sharply.
“Not because you're special,” Kougami says, smirking. “You're just the first person who's tasted so bad that I've had to stop drinking their blood.”
“Great,” the man mutters.
“Your name?” Kougami asks.
“We're not on those terms,” the man says. Kougami waits. After a moment, he grudgingly adds, “Ginoza Nobuchika.” And with a gesture to his dog, “This is Dime.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kougami says. He glances around. “Sorry about the mess. Ideally you wouldn't have even noticed I was here. But like I said, you tasted so bad. Also, thanks for not calling the police. Though I have to ask—why didn't you?”
Ginoza looks away. “I didn't think about it,” he says.
It sounds weak, but Kougami doesn't press the issue. He says, “Anyway, you should get that thing of yours treated.”
“So I'll taste better?” Ginoza raises an eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah, but also it can't be good for you,” Kougami says. “You'll probably feel better, too. It's a win-win.”
Ginoza stares at him. Kougami reaches into his pocket and checks the time on his phone. Almost 4am. He has to get back.
“So, as you probably know, I can't be out after sunrise, so I have to go,” he says, standing up. “I'd help you clean up but--”
“Wait,” Ginoza says, taking a halting step forward.
Kougami stops trying to leave. “What?”
“I'll get this anemia treated,” Ginoza says, “only if you're actually planning on coming back to finish what you started.”
It's Kougami's turn to stare at him, open-mouthed. “What? That's—I thought you'd never want to see me again.”
“I don't mind either way,” Ginoza says. “You said if things had been ideal, I wouldn't have noticed.”
“Yeah, I did, but, um, don't you want to get your problem treated anyway? It'd be easier for both of us if I left you alone.”
“I already know a lot of information about you that I shouldn't know,” Ginoza points out. “So you might as well.”
Kougami sighs. It's late. He shouldn't care whether this guy gets his health problems sorted out or not, because he shouldn't be seeing him again. But if he does get his health problems sorted out, Kougami will have a guaranteed source of blood. He can wait a few days, as long as he knows he'll get something at the end of it.
And Ginoza already knows everything. It isn't a bad deal, all things considered.
He can't help but feel like he's missing something huge, but it's almost sunrise, and he's in a hurry, and he's still a bit flustered from screwing up so badly. So he says, “Fine, I'll be back in a few days.” And then he turns and rushes out of the bedroom, and climbs out the window.
He makes it home before sunrise. Everyone else is already asleep. He climbs into his bed (not a coffin, but in a room dark enough to feel a bit like one) and pulls the covers over his head. His mind is buzzing, but he's also tired.
He falls asleep.
*
“Kougami, why do you have blood on your shirt?” Akane asks that evening.
“Funny story,” Kougami says. If it were anyone else, he probably wouldn't tell them, but because it's Akane and because she knows how to keep a secret, he decides to recount the previous night.
By the time he's done, Akane is trying to hold back laughter. She covers her mouth with her hand and says, “That's—uh—you should really learn to control yourself, Kougami.”
“I wasn't expecting it!” Kougami cried. “You try tasting unhealthy blood and then let's talk.”
“I have,” Akane says. “I mean, there's plenty of unhealthy people out there. Shion's usually pretty good at weeding them out but occasionally someone gets through. I've never woken them up, though.”
“Oh.” Kougami looks away from her. “Well, at least he isn't going to expose us to the world or anything.”
“That is weird,” Akane says, frowning. “Also, that he wants you to come back. That's weird, too.”
“Yeah,” Kougami says. “To be honest, I wasn't really thinking when I agreed to it.”
“Do you think it's a trap?”
“I don't know what kind of trap it could be,” Kougami says. “Even if he told someone else, what's the likelihood of them believing him?”
“Very little,” Akane says, but she still looks unsettled. “I'd still be careful.”
Kougami is about to tell her that he's nothing if not careful, but the previous night's events seem to negate that theory. So he only says, “Yeah.”
Then he spends the next few days trying not to think about it. But he does. It doesn't help that word spreads and Shion suggests that Ginoza has a sort of blood kink. Kagari takes that idea and runs with it, saying that Ginoza probably wants to be Kougami's sex slave. Akane is the voice of reason, telling them how wrong they both are, and Kougami is relieved to have her around.
And he's pretty sure that if there's an explanation to be had, he can get it straight from Ginoza.
Five days later he decides to return. He hopes that's an acceptable period of time, but if it's not, he can always come back. He isn't sure whether or not he should wake up Ginoza when he gets there, or whether he should just do what he needs to do and leave.
That dilemma is solved for him when he climbs up the fire escape and finds a soft light glowing through the window. He opens it and climbs through, and when he straightens, he sees that the kitchen light is on, and Ginoza is making a cup of tea.
“It's two in the morning,” Kougami says.
Ginoza turns to him, cup of tea in hand, surprised. “You're back.”
“I said I'd be. Did you go to the doctor?”
“Yeah.” Ginoza puts down the cup and picks up a pill bottle, shakes it. “Vitamins.”
“When did you start taking them?”
“The day after you broke into my apartment.” He replaces the pill bottle. “I don't know how long it takes.”
“Do you feel better?” Kougami asks.
Ginoza shrugs. “If you want, you can have a taste before you do whatever it is that you do.”
“What?”
Ginoza turns and opens a drawer, pulls out a knife. Kougami moves forward, a protest working its way up his throat, but Ginoza pricks the tip of his finger with the knife and then holds it out.
Kougami stares at him. Bright red blood wells up, and his shock is replaced by hunger. He hasn't fed in a while.
He moves forward, into the kitchen light (artificial light is harmless, unlike the sun) and takes Ginoza's arm by the wrist, pulls him forward. With his other hand, he swipes a finger over Ginoza's wound, coating his own finger red. He lets go of Ginoza, braces himself for the possibility of still-bad-tasting blood, and licks his finger.
It tastes fine.
Not the best he's ever tasted (that's rare) but it tastes normal. Good enough for him to be able to feed tonight. Ginoza is watching him with a sort of open curiosity, and something else Kougami can't really decipher. He'd say it's hope, but there's no reason for Ginoza to hope that his blood tastes good.
Then again, there's no reason why Ginoza should've invited him into his apartment again in the first place. Akane's concerns come to mind, and he pushes them out of the way.
Because he is hungry. And food has never come so easily.
“Right,” Kougami says. “You might want to, uh, lay down.”
Ginoza nods and pushes past him into the bedroom. Kougami follows. Ginoza's dog, Dime, is waiting on the bed, and he perks up when he sees Kougami.
“I think he likes you,” Ginoza says. He sounds almost sad. “Can vampires keep pets?”
“We can do whatever we want,” Kougami says. And then adds, after a moment, “Except run around outside during the day.”
“You wouldn't be averse to a dog?” Ginoza climbs into bed, on top of the covers.
Kougami frowns. “No.”
“Mmm.” Ginoza looks almost relieved. Kougami wants to question it, but Ginoza adds, “Now what?”
“This is probably going to be a bit weird,” Kougami says. “I don't usually—okay, I never do this while the other person is awake. They never know.”
“I don't see why it matters,” Ginoza says.
Kougami frowns. “Because people don't know we exist.”
“Hmm.”
Kougami climbs into the bed, crouches over Ginoza. “I don't know if this hurts,” he says. “You'll probably start to get tired, though.” He pauses. “Are you sure?”
Ginoza bristles. “Just do it.”
Kougami nods, leans forward, opens his mouth, and sinks his teeth into Ginoza's neck. Ginoza winces, but doesn't make a sound. Warm blood, now much more palatable, flows into Kougami's mouth, and he actually sighs in contentment.
He knows exactly how much to drink so that the person won't feel the loss for too long after. They might feel dizzy the next day, or extra tired, but it's nothing more severe than they would feel had they donated blood. And it certainly is enough for Kougami to be satisfied and well nourished.
Ginoza, initially tense, starts to relax. His head falls forward, and Kougami pulls away slowly, so that the wound won't bleed, and sees that Ginoza has passed out. He feels a pang of worry before realizing that this would probably be somewhat normal if he did this to most people while they were awake, but he never has.
He swipes his hand over Ginoza's neck, his skin now slightly cooler, to wipe away any excess blood. The whole thing is a lot cleaner than it was before.
Dime whines.
Kougami wipes his mouth and sits for a while. For some reason, he doesn't want to leave right away like he usually does. Maybe because Ginoza already knows. Maybe because Ginoza asked him to come back, and he feels some sort of obligation to at least say goodbye, and maybe to ask Ginoza if he's okay. He should be okay. It isn't that much blood.
He leans back and runs a hand through his hair. He really shouldn't stay. He looks over Ginoza again, and this time, because the lights are on and he's not sneaking around, he can really observe the other man. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. His shirt seems very large on him, and it occurs to Kougami that Ginoza, though very tall, is also very thin. Where his shirt rides up, Kougami catches a glimpse of his hip bones, which seem too sharp.
He frowns. Does that have to do with Ginoza's blood issues?
He stands up and walks around the room. There's not much there. He finds a few Russian literature books and grimaces. He's always found Russian literature depressing. Still, to kill time, he picks up one of the books, entitled Fathers and Sons, sits on the bed, and starts flipping through it.
He isn't sure how much time has passed, but he hears a groan next to him. He glances over to see Ginoza throwing his arm over his face, and turning towards him.
“Hello,” Kougami says.
Ginoza moves his arm and squints at Kougami. He brings his hand to his neck, feels for the wound, a tiny thing that Kougami isn't even sure can be felt.
“If you're wondering, I already drank some of your blood,” Kougami says. “Not so bad, huh.”
Ginoza jerks up, then presses a hand against the wall to steady himself. After taking a few deep breaths he glares up at Kougami. “You what?”
“I...drank some of your—wait, you told me to!”
Dime starts pacing on the floor beneath where Ginoza is sitting.
“Yes, I did,” Ginoza says through gritted teeth. He takes a few more deep breaths and looks away. One of his hands curls, bunching up the edge of his shirt.
“Ginoza?”
Now, Ginoza's breathing sounds labored. But Kougami doesn't understand why. He's practically gasping, and he leans over and covers his face. And he starts shaking.
“Ginoza,” Kougami repeats, reaching forward. But as soon as his hand touches Ginoza's shoulder, Ginoza slaps it away and jerks back.
“Don't touch me.”
“What's wrong?” Kougami asks.
“Just leave.”
“No.”
Ginoza stares at him, pale and still struggling to breathe and shaking, which only reinforces Kougami's resolve to find out what's wrong. He doesn't understand how Ginoza can think it's okay for Kougami to leave him like this.
“Why not?” Ginoza demands. “This is my apartment. I want you out.”
“I'm not leaving,” Kougami says, “because you're not okay.”
“I'm fine,” Ginoza snaps. “I'm awake, and alive, and I'm fine. I just want you to go.”
Kougami stands up and crosses to the other side of the bed, where he sits inches away from Ginoza. He places his hands on Ginoza's shoulder and opens his mouth, only for Ginoza to take both his wrists in a vice-like grip.
“Just. Go.”
Ginoza's nails dig into Kougami's skin, and he's still shaking, and Kougami turns it around, he pries his arms away and takes hold of Ginoza's hands, which feel cold, even to him. “What's wrong?”
It takes a moment, but Ginoza manages to choke out, “I thought you were going to kill me.”
The words sink in, leaving Kougami feeling like he's been doused in freezing water. “You thought...but that means...you wanted me to--” he can't get the rest of the sentence out.
Ginoza wanted to die. Ginoza wanted Kougami to kill him.
Kougami drops Ginoza's hands and looks away, trying to gather his thoughts. The first thing he feels is anger. “You were using me to commit suicide,” he says.
“I thought you would have killed me anyway,” Ginoza says, bitterly. “Isn't that what you do? You feed on blood. I thought you drained people.”
“No,” Kougami says, trying to keep his voice even. “We only drink enough to keep ourselves alive. Which isn't enough to kill a human. Anyone who drinks more is considered a binge eater.”
“I didn't know that,” Ginoza murmurs. He's staring at his hands, now resting in his lap.
“I'm not going to be your method of suicide,” Kougami says. “I don't kill people.”
“I'm sorry,” Ginoza says. He looks up at Kougami. “You should leave.”
Kougami checks his phone. It's fifteen minutes past four in the morning. He should leave.
But Ginoza isn't fine. And Kougami shouldn't care, because he's been used, but then again, Ginoza hadn't known that Kougami wasn't like the vampires in fiction. That he wouldn't drink people dry.
And Ginoza is clearly troubled. Possibly not thinking straight.
“I'm not leaving,” Kougami says.
Ginoza's head jerks up. “But-”
“I don't think you should be left alone,” Kougami says. “And I think you need to talk to someone. You need help. I don't know. I'm not exactly the sort of person who does this sort of thing, but I can't just leave you here.”
“Kougami--”
“Do you actually want me to leave?”
Ginoza stares at him. And then says, “No. But-”
“Then end of discussion.”
They sit in silence for a moment. And then Ginoza mutters, “I'm such a coward.”
“For wanting to die?” Kougami asks.
“For not being able to do it myself, to just get it over with. For waiting, for thinking of leaving Dime behind, and then you came along, and noticed something was wrong, and I wouldn't have fixed it if you weren't you,” Ginoza sighs. “The best I could do was slowly killing myself, which might have worked and might not have. It was too good to be true.”
Kougami gives him a minute. And then asks, “Why do you want to die?”
“I don't know,” Ginoza admits. “I don't feel good enough. For anyone. For myself. When I'm not thinking that I find myself worrying about everyone I know. My father died, and I couldn't sleep after that. It felt like keeping vigil, but for something that might happen instead of something already happening.”
“And you didn't get help?”
“Heh.” Ginoza gives Kougami a thin smile. “I wasn't sure if it was worth it. As you can tell, I'm not someone who thinks clearly all the time.”
“Well, you should,” Kougami says. “I mean, talking to me is a good start, but...let's be honest, this is a bit weird. I'm probably the last person you need to go to for help.”
“Maybe.” Ginoza presses his face into his hands.
“You should sleep,” Kougami says. “After that amount of blood loss, you need rest.” He moves forward and gently pushes Ginoza back, then lies next to him.
“Do vampires live forever?” Ginoza asks after a moment.
“We live a very long time,” Kougami says. “It's hard to kill us.”
“And that doesn't bother you?”
Kougami turns on his side to face Ginoza, who's staring at the ceiling. “No,” he says. “It doesn't really. I like being alive. Seeing how people change. I have friends who are like me, so I don't lose people that often. I mean, I have, but it was good to know them while they were alive.”
“Hmm.” Ginoza closes his eyes. “I've never been able to see a good future for myself. Maybe when I was younger. I can't imagine living that long.”
“Maybe you haven't known the right people.”
“Maybe.” Ginoza turns to him. “Maybe you are the sort of person I've needed to know.”
“Given that you seem to have self-destructive tendencies, I'm not sure,” Kougami says. He's starting to feel tired. Ginoza's bed is comfortable, and the sun is rising, and he's usually starting to fall asleep by this time. His body has a schedule that apparently doesn't like to be messed with.
There was a time when he didn't sleep, not because he couldn't, but because he thought that sleep was hours wasted. Now, he's settled down a bit. He makes the most of the times he's awake, and enjoys the time he gets to rest.
“You would call me out on them,” Ginoza says. “No one else notices.”
“I bet you hide it.”
They're silent for a moment, and Kougami closes his eyes. He hears Ginoza shift.
“Thank you,” Ginoza murmurs.
Kougami thinks he responds. But maybe he's already mostly asleep.
*
There's a warm, solid feeling enveloping Kougami's hand.
He sucks in a breath, which wakes him up a little more, and opens his eyes. Ginoza is lying on his back, eyes half-lidded, but awake. Kougami glances down and finds that Ginoza's hand is entwined with his own.
“Ginoza?” Kougami murmurs, pulling himself up.
Ginoza lets go of Kougami's hand, which makes Kougami feel a bit sad. He liked the feeling of his hand in someone else's. It's been a while since he's held hands with someone.
“It's two in the afternoon,” Ginoza tells him.
“Oh.”
Ginoza turns towards him. “Why do you care?”
“You seem like a good person,” Kougami says. “And lonely. And I've seen a lot of people die, but that doesn't mean I'm used to it. I don't want you to die.”
“You don't really know me,” Ginoza says.
“I'd like to. Besides, you said that maybe I'm the sort of person you need to know. And maybe, now that I've thought about it, I want to be that person.”
Ginoza looks shocked.
“What do you think?” Kougami asks.
Ginoza runs a hand through his hair and sits up. He swallows, looks unsure. And then he looks up at Kougami, and offers him a something that isn't quite a smile, but is on its way there.
“I think I'd like to know you, too.”